Arma Ain't Always a Bitch

First I would like to apologize for the length of time with no activity. Real life reared its ugly head. Now that I can work on this a bit, I started working Chapter nine up, and went back through to check a few things, and found myself looking at some necessary edits. They are clarifications and streamlines mainly, with one foreshadowing element added. This isn't meant as a stand alone story, and as such, you might want to read the first three chapters first, otherwise you might end up as lost as I normally seem to be.

In the interest of full disclosure there are a couple of things that you should keep in mind when you read on. I started this with the initial premise and a completely non-sexual dog that you meet in Chapter six. The story made it into the middle of the second chapter, and I found that the characters decided that they were going to change the script so to speak. There are quite a few people that got mad at something that was a phantom wandering around in the drafty halls between my ears.

I'm not sure about your fantasy world, but mine has no STD's. If I'm thinking about what it would feel like to do whatever to whomever, I'm not going to stop myself and find out if the mental picture has anything communicable.

I would like to thank "takemeaway my love" for the assistance.

Thanks for taking the time, and please feel free to comment through the Lit profile.

TNC

*********

Mark checked on Vanessa when he and Amy got back. She was still sleeping off the sexual and emotional overload of earlier and hadn't moved. Unlike her, he was conflicted even more than ever. After the events of the morning he had no idea what to do, say or feel. He turned to get the only other woman he had ever really loved settled in.

He had put the air mattress on the box springs and Amy had made the bed while he was checking on Vanessa and locking up. Mark was going to tuck Amy in and sleep on the couch, but she was having none of that.

"Get your ass in here. If anyone is going to sleep on the sofa it's me. You need some sleep!"

Figuring that was a battle better left un-fought, he settled for letting her help him undress and was as surprised when she was climbing in with him, her bare skin pressed against his, as he was at the relief he felt. It was like there was a part of him that knew that if he was going to sleep, she would have to be beside him.

Amy slid back, pressing against him and reached behind her to find his hand, placing it so he could cup her breast. She turned her head and kissed him.

"Good night sweetheart."

"Good night beautiful."

Amy was asleep in minutes; her breathing slowing and letting Mark know she was out. He tried to close his eyes and quiet the storm of emotions that had started brewing when he stopped moving. He knew that he needed sleep, but that was something that didn't seem to be in the immediate future for him. He stayed curled up behind Amy, gaining strength from the act and thankful that she was a "much more than friend" now.

Not able to sleep and not wanting to disturb Amy with his flailing around trying to find it, Mark slid out of bed and threw on some shorts.

He paused when he passed the "shrine" that he had erected a lifetime ago earlier in the day. Mark pulled the shears out of the splintered wood of the table and tried to pull the bent wedding bands loose from where they conformed to the improvised skewer. The rings weren't budging and as he turned to head to the garage to extricate the stubborn things, he stepped on the diamond that until recently was on Vanessa's engagement ring.

Pocketing the stone and grabbing a six-pack, Mark headed for the garage and a rubber mallet to "unshear" the gold bands, then on to his happy place, the swing in the backyard. It was going to be a long night. It was just before midnight, though it felt like a week had elapsed since the pre-dawn hours when he had been on the boat speeding toward port.

Mark cracked the first bottle open and leaned back to watch the stars; this had been a place of refuge when his mom was fighting with the current Flavor of the Month club "friend". It was the last one that had facilitated his inheritance, but he would gladly give it all back to have his mom around.

*********

When Jimmy drank, which was continuously, it was "spin-a-mood" time, and those moods walked the knife edge of violence on one side and joviality on the other. They were also notoriously fickle with the slightest things setting off the shift, the effects of which started showing up on his mom's face after a brief "honeymoon" period. Mark had been startled awake by the sound of raised voices and a slap or punch landing so many times that he lost track. He was sure he was on deck for what that dickhead was dishing out, but figured he got off on beating up on women when it never happened.

The shrinks had said that he was still a child and there was no reason to feel responsible. He might have been a child in age, just fourteen, but he had been the parent in the relationship with his mom for longer than he cared to remember. He had always taken care of her and it never occurred to him that he was the exception to the rule with kids his age. Mark ended up being the mascot in his mom's group of friends and had never really had playmates his age, all of his were in college and he had been forced to grow up before he turned ten.

Mark wasn't neglected, far from it, he had a dozen or so "parents" who looked after him when the rest were busy. He never knew who would be picking him up from school, but there were no bad choices, all of the group was fun and treated him like an equal. While it did get him ready for the world, it never got him ready to be a person and it was this flawed child that was shoved into the breach time and again for his mom.

Mark remembered the feel of the shotgun as he sat waiting for Jimmy to pass out. He had gathered his courage and decided that he had chickened out too many times and felt horrible that he was putting his mom through hell by not protecting her. Something had set the lunatic off again and he had taken it out on the much smaller Lisa. When everything had settled, he stood with shaking hands, racked a shell into the chamber and quietly opened the door.

He met his mom coming down the hall, having heard the noise. She took in the situation and shook her head and pointed to the back door. That was nothing new; they had ended up on the swing numerous times after that douchebag had imploded, Lisa settling the troubled boy and Mark saying that he would protect her. When they had made it to the relative safety of the back yard she reached for the gun but he pulled it back.

"No mom, have you finally seen it this time?" Mark asked her in a voice that belonged to a much older person as he pointed at the swelling that was already starting on the left side of her face. This was an ongoing argument, with him saying it was time for Jimmy to leave and her saying she could handle it. He could see that she might finally be coming around by the look in her eyes. They were just like Mark's and reflected their moods to the point that the two had joked about giving people charts like the ones that had accompanied mood rings in the 70's.

"Please Mark, you can't throw your life away on him," she started.

"Fuck that," rage filling him until his body shook from the effects. and started going back in to put the psychopath out of their misery.

Once again she stopped him and reached for the gun. Not wanting to hurt her more he relented and cleared the gun. Leaving the chamber open, he handed Lisa the weapon and collected the shells, he would need them the next time he was alone with Jimmy. She slipped her left arm around him and pulled him to the swing and leaned into the hug he gave her, once again falling into the role reversal that had dominated his life, with him in the protector/parent role.

The next night started like most; homework, chores, start supper then wait for his mom and dickwad to get home, praying that there would be no drama. Everything had been fine when Mark had gone to bed, but he woke to the now familiar sound of raised voices, only this time there was a new note in Lisa's voice; pleading. Mark eased his door open to get an idea of the fallout to expect and his stomach dropped.

"You always take that brat's side," he heard Jimmy slurring.

"He's just a kid, leave him out of this!"

"I'll do what I fucking want, now move!" followed by the sound of breaking glass.

Mark was about to go find out what was happening when he heard his mother scream, followed by another scuffle. He heard the slide on Jimmy's.45, loading the chamber and had just enough time to grab the phone, before he heard two shots. Locking his door, phone in hand, he went through his window knowing that the thin door would only give him a few seconds.

Instead of heading away from the house, Mark went up the trellis to the roof, lying next to the chimney that had been a refuge in happier times. Now it was for a much different reason, no one could see him in the shadows and that saved his life. He heard the door splintering as Jimmy kicked it open and saw glass fly when his TV sailed through his bedroom window.

Mark had dialed 911 at some point and was starting to tell the dispatcher what was going on when Jimmy stalked out of the house, apparently looking for him. He was afraid the lunatic would hear her voice and shushed her in quiet tones. He really didn't have to worry, the rounds being fired inside toasted Jimmy's hearing. When it was safe Mark told the operator what he had heard and where he was, relieved that she was staying on the phone until the cruisers arrived.

He saw the blue lights in the distance, much sooner than he thought, but he didn't know that dispatcher had sent them when she heard the terror in his voice. As they got closer he heard the sirens and as they were skidding to a stop, another shot from inside the house. The officers from the three cruisers crouched behind their car doors, waiting.

The dispatcher had heard the noise and asked if Mark was ok. All she got in the way of reply was the sound of the boy weeping. He barely realized the big van arriving or the sound as the front door was battered aside.

Once the house had been cleared of threats, the officers tried to get the unresponsive boy to come down or to even acknowledge their presence. In the end, they had to bring him down in the bucket of a fire truck.

Mark didn't acknowledge the gentle treatment as he was removed from the roof or when the blanket was placed around his slumped shoulders. He knew what had happened but his body had refused the reality and shut down for the time being.

Alone. It popped in his mind and then the avalanche of guilt started. He could have stopped this the night before by euthanizing that animal, but he didn't. That was the last thing that went by before his mind shut down, leaving him a breathing husk.

One of the officers was married to a teacher at the high school and had called her about Mark. She told him about the relationship Amy and Jack had with Mark and he called the Swanson house to see if they would help get through the shroud Mark had pulled around himself.

Maggie's car slid to a stop but it was in the front yard. Amy was moving as soon as it stopped, ignoring the lingering SWAT team members that were trying to cut her off. The officer that had called the house recognized the car as it sped toward them and called them off.

"It's ok Tim, let her go."

Amy didn't even see the people, she only saw Mark. He had been staring toward the front yard and couldn't have missed the car, but didn't give any indication of seeing it. She ran up the stairs and pulled him into her lap. He didn't resist but gave no indication that she was there.

Amy had settled for wrapping her legs around Mark's waist and had his head against her shoulder, rocking him much like a mother soothing a baby. That's the way that Maggie and Jack found them when they arrived in the truck. Jack moved to join his two friends but stopped when his mom led him off to talk to the officer that had called to let them know what happened.

Mark's eyes were open, but all he could see was his mother's face with an accusing look. It didn't matter that it was self-imposed; it was all too real to his fourteen year old mind. He gradually became aware of Amy's presence and seeing her for the first time he dissolved in gasping sobs. He buried his face in her hair and squeezed her until she thought he would crack a rib, but she just kept rocking and doing her best to calm him.

As Mark calmed back down, the officer in charge tried to get a statement but with the boy running at a survival level, he wasn't there enough to question.

"Mark is going back to the house with the kids and me so why don't you call and then come by in the morning. I'm not sure he can take any more right now," Maggie said, making it clear what was going to happen. And with that she made a few calls to get someone to board up the door and window until repairs could be done.

Mark wouldn't let go of Amy until it was clear that he was going with them. All he knew was that she was his life preserver and without her he thought he would sink in the pit that was pulling at him and not come back. When they got to the Swanson's house, she took him to her bedroom, her mother nodding ok, although Maggie would never have tried to separate them. Not only would Mark dissolve, Amy wouldn't have listened. She had always watched over Mark and now she was like a mama grizzly with her cub. No, there would be no interference from her direction on this one.

Amy sat him on the bed, "I'll be right back sweetie," she told an increasingly anxious Mark. Taking his face in her hands, she tilted it so his eyes were looking into hers, "I'm not going to leave, I just need to get ready for bed." He seemed to accept that and waited until she came back, lost in his own world. She helped him into bed, covered him up and slid in, resting his head on her chest and ran her fingers through his hair until he fell into a twitching sleep. Only then did she let herself shed tears for her friend.

Mark ended up staying with the Swanson's for the better part of his ninth grade year and the largest part of that connected at the hip with Amy. He had spent every night for the first four months in her bed, waking up shivering and screaming from the sound of gunshots ringing through his dreams. That closeness is what led to Shane getting his ass kicked by a crazed freshman. He had failed his mom, but there was no way he would let it happen to her, so when she slapped Shane's face for trying to cop a feel and ended up on the ground from being pushed, Mark's world dissolved in a red haze.

He was walking to lunch when he heard Amy raise her voice, and took off running in that direction arriving just in time to see her hit the floor. He never slowed down and sprinted into Shane's chest, following him down, beating his head against the floor. All Mark could see was Jimmy's face and then felt hands pull him off and hold him as he tried to get loose to finish the job he had failed at earlier. The school didn't have anyone to call, so they had called Maggie who came down and picked up the kids.

That was when Maggie had steered him into martial arts as a way to try to tame the anger that threatened to overtake her "youngest son". It did focus him, but it also helped him fill out, a fact not wasted on Amy's friends though he was oblivious to the looks and blatant hints dropped, much to her amusement.

She watched her friends throw themselves at him, stopping just short of walking naked in front of him, just to be treated in a polite, gentlemanly fashion. On more than one occasion she had been asked if he was gay and had to choke out a strangled, "NO," through the gales of laughter. And so it went until the summer before his senior year.

*********

Amy was going to throw Mark a party for his eighteenth birthday and had he known he would have had the plague and been unable to attend. She knew he hated parties and felt uncomfortable around groups of people, though if you didn't know him you wouldn't be able to tell. He would draw people out while never revealing anything of himself, the armor that went up when his mom died only had two chinks, and they were named Amy and Jack.

"Hey cutie, what are you up to later?" Amy had called Mark earlier that morning already knowing that he had forgotten his birthday, again.

"I was going to do a tune-up on the '80, why?" Once again he had, in fact, forgotten what day it was or that it was supposed to be special.

"Just thought you might want some home cooking since we both know you can burn water," she said with a laugh. He had always been the better cook and had hosted her and her friends at his house more times than she could count.

"Sounds good to me, I was just going to do some burgers. What can I bring?"

"You know I can't ever turn down your peanut butter cookies, and of course your handsome self." She could almost hear his cheeks turning incandescent over the phone.

"Not me beautiful, but then again when was your last eye exam?" Mark was almost accustomed to Amy embarrassing him but was still subject to her sneak attacks, her eyes gave her away in person though.

"Whatever, just plan on 7 and at least remember to wash off the grease before you make the cookies."

"Sounds good, tell your mom I said hey."

Amy heard him long before she saw the car pulling into the driveway. He had taken the long way and you could track the progress of the big block as it climbed the twisting road behind the house. She knew that driving the two remaining links to his family were the only fun he let himself have and had understood why the few times he had let her drive one. She also knew that not even Jack had been allowed behind the wheel of one of his babies, a fact that made her feel very special.

Mark hopped out of the '69, grabbed the cookies and hit a button on his watch; he'd made it up the hill eight seconds better than his record and was whistling to himself as he let himself in the front door of his second home.

"Amy, I made it eight se..." He trailed off seeing Amber and Tanya, two of Amy's friends from college. Not expecting anyone else, he had thrown on a worn out pair of jeans and a polo shirt, his hair being styled by whatever speed he had reached on the way to the house.

Mark looked at Amy then glanced at the other two ladies. Both were built much like Amy, the differences being that Amber had auburn hair with hints of red and Tanya had platinum blonde hair. Mark remembered hearing about them and the fact that they were cheerleaders with Amy, but didn't remember meeting them. He had, but that was two years ago at a pool party that he tried hard to forget. Amy had walked in on him while he was jerking off while thinking about these friends, and neither had ever said another word about it.

Never seeming to miss a beat, Mark walked to Amber, took her hand and introduced himself as he kissed the back of the small hand in his, all while looking into the biggest set of brown eye's he had ever seen.

"How are you?" Mark paused, waiting for a name from someone.

"Amber," Amy offered up, "and this is Tanya," she said turning to the blonde.

Mark repeated the greeting and bowed with a flourish, drawing giggles from the three ladies before cocking an eyebrow at Amy.

"What day is it again?" Mark asked.

"Saturday."

Another longer look, "and the date is?"

"Umm, the 16th?" Amy answered with a look of innocence.

"Shit," then realizing what he had just said, stammered an apology to the two ladies that hadn't tricked him into attending his own birthday party.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said and turned an even brighter shade of red. "Cookie?"